Fear and Loathing in Dental Chairs
by wifeymcwiferson
Summary: Dean is in the dark about Sam's plan to rid them of Dean's pesky wisdom teeth. Dean arms himself and fights back, Sam negotiates with promises of pie and booze, and the dentist plays along. This adventure got me through my own dental nightmare. Give it a read and get back to me!


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, especially anything Supernatural, WebMD, or Walmart related. Happy now?**

**Author's note: Imagining this little adventure is the only way I got through having two wisdom teeth yanked…along with local anesthetic, a drill, and what looked like pliers…. *shivers***

**Thank you, Winjennster for the AWESOME title! **

Dean woke to the sound of the Impala's engine cutting off.

Sam had insisted they drive through the night, adamant that the black dog would strike somewhere in the small Tennessee town by midday. Dean had blown off the research to hustle pool and had found Sam waiting at the hotel; bags packed and determined to hit the road. It had been a long night.

He cracked one eye open, taking in his surroundings. A large building complex sat before them, the sign catching Dean's eye. Instantly, he bolted upright on the bench seat, his .45 immediately drawn.

"Dean," Sam said calmly, trying to soothe his older brother. "Put it away."

"Not a chance in hell," Dean spat as he stared menacingly at the sign looming at him from across the parking lot. "Give me the car keys, Sam."

"Not going to happen, Dean," Sam said firmly. "This is for your own good."

"Christo," Dean said loudly, his face drawn tight with suspicion as he eyed Sam.

"Dean! I'm not possessed, you dumbass," Sam exclaimed as he turned to face Dean. "And I'm not giving you the keys! Now put your gun away before someone sees you!"

Dean glanced around the parking lot, lowering his gun marginally. "Sam, give me the keys or I will hurt you."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me," Sam asked sarcastically.

Dean cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing slightly, his lips tightening.

"Dean, don't look at me like that; you aren't going to shoot me!"

"From this range, I wouldn't miss, Sammy. Flesh wound or not, I'll get the keys!"

"And risk damaging your precious upholstery, I don't think so. Get out of the car," Sam argued again. "Take it like a man!"

With a deep sign, Dean put his .45 away; only to instantly start tightening up his seatbelt until it started to cut into him. "This isn't about manliness. This is about you forcing your propaganda on me!"

Sam watched in amazement, shaking his head back and forth. "Propaganda!? Dammit, Dean, it's a dentist's office, not a coroner's office!"

"Yeah, this time," Dean mumbled as he locked the passenger side door. "Next thing you know, it'll be a friggin salad bar!"

"Dean, you have to go in. I made you an appointment and prepaid," Sam stated as he played with the keys in his hand.

"When," Dean asked in disbelief. "You didn't even know what town we were going to be in today!"

Sam said nothing, an innocent smile falling into place with a shrug.

"You made the job up? The whole thing? A black dog was just what? Some guise to have some sadistic bastard rip my face apart," Dean snapped as he glared at Sam.

"Look, Dean, those teeth have to come out," Sam said gently. "You remember what the dentist said."

Dean frowned, thinking back to the conversation. "He was a fruitcake."

"He was a dentist, Dean, with a medical license. Not some back alley, WedMD quoting, crackpot," Sam argued. "Your lower wisdom teeth have to come out. They're only going to keep getting inflamed and infected. Either those two come out or you risk losing even more teeth. And unlike a vampire, you're not going to grow replacement teeth. You can't just keep taking antibiotics every single time they flare up. They're too hard to steal every time you need them. This will permanently solve the problem."

Dean mumbled something under his breath as he ran a hand over his face.

"What was that," Sam asked impatiently.

Dean glared at Sam. "I said I hate the dentist."

"Not really telling me anything I didn't already know, Dean," Sam said. "Now get out of the car."

Dean gingerly rubbed his jaw. His mouth did hurt. But so would seeing a dentist. "No."

Sam leaned over the release Dean's seatbelt. "Dean, come on—"

"I told you no—"

"Ouch—Dammit, Dean!"

"I told you— I'm not going in there!"

"Yes, you are—quit fighting me—"

Dean looked triumphant as Sam scooted away from him, his lip bleeding.

Sam dabbed his hand at his mouth, grimacing when he saw the blood. "Real mature, Dean. I can't believe you punched me!"

"Well, I can't believe you betrayed me! To the dentist of all places!" Dean snapped.

Sam glared at him before he climbed out the car, the keys firmly in his grip.

Dean watched suspiciously as Sam unlocked the passenger side door.

Before Sam could open the door, Dean popped the lock again.

Sam glared at Dean through the window. "Get out."

"Not gonna happen, Sammy boy. I can do this all day."

Sam unlocked the door again, this time yanking it open before he slid the key out of the door.

"Really," Sam said, eerily calm as he stooped next to Dean. "Cause let me tell you how that day will go for you… I'll drive around the Walmart parking lot for an hour or two and park by the handicapped parking spaces. How many door dings do you think we can get in one hour? Two, maybe three? With my mood and parking skills, I bet I can get five or six! Then—because we'll still have a few hours left, I'll drive your precious car through the automatic car wash a dozen or so times…I know you love it when that weird guy with the bucket of dirty water—cause every car place has that guy—will use that sandy, dirty water to scrub the—"

"Stop! Okay, just stop," Dean yelled. "If you ever take my car into a Walmart parking lot, I swear to every god we haven't killed yet—"

"So you'll see the dentist," Sam asked, jangling the keys in front of Dean's face.

Dean glared at Sam before looking at the looming building across the parking lot. It looked nice enough, with its river rock and oak exterior. "Looks normal."

"That's because it's a dentist's office, Dean. Not some psychopath's lair," Sam quipped.

Dean didn't move from the car.

"Look, if you can do this without, I don't know, killing or biting anyone, I'll buy you all the jello, pie, and ice cream you want."

"Booze. I want booze in this deal," Dean said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And no bitching from you about it."

Sam looked at his brother. "Not today. You can have booze tomorrow or the next day, after the anesthetic has worn off."

Dean considered Sam's counteroffer. It was better than he had expected. He slowly undid the seatbelt and slid out of the car. Sam walked a step behind him; neither one of them acknowledging that if he hadn't been right behind him, Dean would have already been sprinting back to the car.

Sam all but pushed Dean through the door and into a chair, the farthest chair far from the door; before he walked up the receptionist.

"My brother has an appointment today. I already filled out his paperwork online and his dentist in Georgia was supposed to fax over his xrays and recommendations," Sam said, not missing how Dean's jaw had dropped.

"He'll be ready to go in the back in a few minutes," the receptionist said.

As Sam slid into his chair, Dean kicked his ankle. "This is a full on conspiracy. You got everyone in on this?"

"Yep," Sam said casually as he picked up a magazine. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't such a baby. Now here's the drill. This dentist is going to take out both lower wisdom teeth. It's totally up to you if you want local anesthetic or to be totally sedated for this, they do that here."

"And be unconscious so this guy can what? Sell my kidneys on Craigslist? See how many tennis balls will fit in my mouth," Dean whispered angrily. "No thank you!"

"Actually, your oral surgeon is a woman," Sam said as he flipped a page. "Maybe you'll get lucky and she'll molest you."

Dean opened his mouth in retort, but slowly closed it; a wicked smile settling over his face.

"Stop it you perv," Sam snapped. "I was joking."

"Joking or not…I saw a porn once…had the naughty dental hygienist…wouldn't mind being that guy," Dean murmured quietly.

"Dean, shut up," Sam said. "Do you want me to go in the back with you?"

"For what," Dean asked. "To hold my hand? You're such a girl."

He looked at Sam when he didn't answer. "No, Sam, I've been through worse than a tooth removal without you holding my hand. I can handle it."

They waited side by side; Sam flipping through the magazine while Dean softly hummed Metallica and tapped his knee nervously.

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean dug through his pockets, his face worried until he obviously found what he wanted and relaxed into his chair.

"What do you have," Sam asked cautiously. "You're not looking for your flask, are you?"

"No, Sam," Dean snapped as he rolled his eyes. "My EMF reader."

Sam scrutinized Dean. "Why, pray tell, dear brother, would you need your EMF reader for a tooth extraction?"

"Dean Wimpish," a woman in pink scrubs called out from across the room, a smile on her face.

"Wimpish," Dean hissed at Sam before he slowly stood. "I hate you, Sam."

Sam said nothing; he just grinned as Dean stated to walk away.

"Sam," Dean said as he stepped to the doorway. "If I die in there, I will haunt your ass."

Sam shook his head in amusement as he watched Dean disappear behind the door.

Dean followed the hygienist down a cheerful hallway and into one of the small rooms. "Okay, Dean. The oral surgeon will be in to see you in just a few minutes."

Dean waited for her to leave before he quickly pulled his EMF reader out of his pocket. With a brief glance at the door, he quickly walked around the small room, waving it over everything in sight. Not even one single blip, certainly not enough for him to leave without giving Sam reason to make fun of him. He stuffed it back into his jacket pocket and sat back in the chair, trying to make himself relax.

He could do this. He was a Winchester after all. This was nothing.

He was humming Metallica again, this time with his eyes closed as he tried to imagine himself behind the wheel of the Impala , when he heard the door open. He opened his eyes to see his oral surgeon standing in front of him, an amused smile on her face.

"Dean," she asked as she moved to the stool next to him, a chart in her hand.

"Yeah," he said cautiously.

"Well, your brother and I spoke a few days ago. He told me you experience some dental anxiety," she explained with her most disarming smile.

"I bet he did," Dean grumbled under his breath.

"It's not uncommon for people to opt for sedation for this type of extraction," she said as she motioned to the IV equipment behind him. "We can put in an IV, we monitor your oxygen levels and heart rate; it's very safe."

Dean didn't say anything, frowning as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Or you can just opt for local anesthetic," she said, seeing his frown. "We can just numb the area and remove the teeth. You'll hear what we're doing and be likely to see the tools, the removed teeth, and possibly some blood. Will you be okay with all of that?"

Dean nodded. "I've seen worse," he said trying to keep his voice firm and calm.

"Okay, we'll get started right away," she said with a bright smile.

Sam looked at the clock again. It had been over an hour and he was starting to wonder if Dean was giving the surgeon trouble. He shook his head as he thought back to Dean threatening to him. 'Maybe I should have frisked him before he went in,' Sam thought to himself.

Suddenly a cheerful face pulled Sam from his worries. "Sam, come on back," the surgeon said.

Sam hurried behind her and followed her into a small room. He could see Dean in the chair, his mouth, jaw, and cheeks swollen. He gave Sam a small, uncoordinated wave before his hand fell back on his chest, his eyes slipping closed. Sam snorted when he heard Metallica being hummed again, only this time Dean was obviously having a hard time concentrating on which song he wanted.

"Yeah, he did that a lot of the time, except when we sedated him," the surgeon said with a laugh.

"He actually agreed to be sedated," Sam asked, amazed.

"Well, yes. But to be honest, I may have kind of helped to scare him into it," she admitted. "The dentist that sent the xrays also sent a little note of his own; did you know that your brother threatened to 'bite his sadistic hands off so he could salt and burn them like they deserved'?"

Sam groaned and shook his head. "No clue where he gets this stuff from," Sam said with a shaky laugh, hoping he could play it off. "So how did you scare him into the sedation?"

"Well, I used your suggestions. I had the hygienist lay out all the tools we rarely use, some of them look pretty scary. I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head, but he still insisted that he wanted the local anesthetic. So I loaded the syringe with the largest gauge needle we have and told the hygienist to hand me the pliers, that I was pretty sure I could get them out with a few good yanks."

Sam laughed and said, "That was brilliant. I'm sure he wanted the sedation at that point."

"Definitely," she said with a laugh. "Although I do hate that I further traumatized him. The next dentist to see him might want to wear Kevlar gloves."

"Probably not a bad idea," Sam agreed. "Let's get him out of here before he wakes up enough to realize that we pulled one over on him."

After a rather difficult time of loading Dean into the Impala, Sam sat back and stared at his brother. Dean looked out of it; his chipmunk cheeks packed with gauze. He lifted one eye lid and gestured to the road, giving Sam the thumbs up.

"You alright man," Sam asked as he cranked the engine.

Dean smiled drunkenly at Sam before nodding.

"You are stoned, aren't you," Sam said with a laugh as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm going to send that surgeon a thank you note tomorrow."

Later, Dean woke to an ice pack being laid across his face. He slowly sat up, the room spinning into focus.

"How are you feeling," Sam asked from across the room.

He smiled when he couldn't make out the grumbled response. "Never mind," he said. "I got everything on your wish list. There's pie on the table. Jello and ice cream in the fridge."

He ducked as the flask flew past him, missing him by a good eight inches. "Wow, you are off your game. And no, no booze until the sedation wears off. After that there are pain pills you can have, but only if you don't drink. No mixing them."

Dean glared at him as he fished bloody gauze from his mouth, dropping it onto the table next to him.

"Dean, that is so unsanitary," Sam complained. "Use the garbage can. It's right next to you."

Dean knocked the gauze into the garbage can before mumbling, "She was a lunatic."

"What," Sam asked. "Who?"

"The surgeon, where did you find her? She threatened to use a horse needle to numb me and to yank them out with rusty pliers."

"Dean, don't exaggerate. She did a great job," Sam said as he turned back to the laptop.

"I'm not lying," Dean argued. "Toss me the pills, this hurts like a sonovabitch."

"Not surprised," Sam said as he tossed the bottle onto the bed followed by a tennis ball. "Considering she said your mouth can hold seven tennis balls. A new record for her office, she's set to get a trophy at the next evil dentist convention."

_Hey you! Yeah, you! I see you, smiling, maybe even laughing-and about to leave without writing a review. *Tsk Tsk* The nerve! You don't have to have an account to leave a review! Just do it! Or the evil dentist clown will get you! Bwahahahahaha!_

**Okay, so this developed more as it was being written. My dental experience has developed most painfully this past week, so writing this over the past few drugged days has taken longer than I planned. Also, you have any idea how hard it is to edit in this state?! Hard, very hard. Any mistakes, let me know! **

**Please leave a review to help fuel the writing machine. Thanks!**


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